


Hostage Situation

by striderade



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Tension, trust me i know i'm going to hell for this so its ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6819070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/striderade/pseuds/striderade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What starts out as what Inuyasha <i>thinks</i> is a kidnapping turns out to be the complete opposite. Bankotsu, leader of the Band of Seven, has captured him— but has a proposition no <i>normal</i> hostage could ever hope to be offered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hostage Situation

**Author's Note:**

> so i knew from the very start that, if inuyasha _could_ say "well bye" and break the restraints if he wanted to, there was nothing stopping him from doing it in the beginning. but to that, i say, he could have actually been pretty interested in what bankotsu had to say to him, so _there_
> 
> at first, this fic was merely a joke that i didn't ever think i'd finish. so all i can do is patiently wait for the devil to come and cart me off

When Inuyasha comes to, the first thing he realizes is that he’s fucked. Also, if no one comes to rescue him soon, he’s going to have someone’s head.

Maybe not even one head, but two— or three. Technically, if he wanted to, he could escape, but there are a lot of things preventing him from doing so. First of all, he’s bound. Blindfolded, too. Not gagged, thankfully, but on top of that, he can’t move and that is a problem; he’s also not alone, and being quite heavily body guarded by the very people that kidnapped him in the first place.

How the hell was he even in this position to begin with? Idly, he thinks of Kagome and the others, but everything is so blurry. God— what happened? Where are they?

The last thing Inuyasha remembers is— well, not much. He remembers being dangerously close to taking the Tetsusaiga through someone’s throat, and that’s really it. Other than being knocked the fuck out by— what, Banyru?— Inuyasha has absolutely no recollection of what happened to him before ending up here. He doesn’t even know where he is. All he can feel is the cool press of two swords against either side of his neck, and the ominous silence following close behind. At least he has clothes on. Thank god.

But the least of his problems are clothes. The Tetsusaiga is nowhere to be found, and Inuyasha feels oddly naked without it. His wrists are bound so tightly that he’s steadily losing sensation in his fingers.

“Alright,” Inuyasha says, snapping at nothing for the time being. “Who the fuck is ready to die?”

“You, if you don’t shut up,” someone says. Inuyasha instantly recognizes the voice, and if he _could_ roll his eyes, he would. Jakotsu is to his left, and seems all but upset that he’s finally awake. Typical. It _was_ Bankotsu who delivered the final blow, after all. “Normally, I don’t have much of a problem with how lovely of a voice you have, Inuyasha. But even you were getting a little annoying last night.”

“Wouldn’t shut up when we got you here,” another voice says. It’s Renkotsu this time, sounding a bit more irritated than his brother. “It’s as if all you knew how to do was shoot your mouth off.”

“If you haven’t _noticed_ ,” Inuyasha snarls, “you’ve kind of given me ample opportunity to to shoot my motherfucking mouth off, thank you. So if you don’t want to deal with it, there are better things for you to do than to keep me here.”

Jakotsu laughs quietly. “We can stand it,” he says. “Besides. You’re quite entertaining when you’re angry, you know. You’re not going anywhere.”

If Inuyasha wasn’t in the mood to get the shit beaten out of him, he’d definitely have something to say about that. But he doesn’t. He is absolutely speechless. He’s not stupid, that’s for sure— he obviously doesn’t have the upper hand here, although he’s really not okay with that. But his anger is going crudely unnoticed. He’s used to being mocked, but not when he doesn’t have control over practically no part of his body. 

He wrestles with the restraints around his wrists. “At least be hospitable and tell me where the hell I am,” he says, quieter this time. He knows he’s in some kind of large, open room. Underneath his legs is a large tatami, which is nice— at least. Is he in some kind of a shrine? Who honestly knew? “Where the hell is Bankotsu if you two idiots are here?”

“Should we tell him?” 

“You’re in the company of the shrine Naraku had prepared for us,” Renkotsu says, ignoring Jakotsu immediately. “Considering the other one got destroyed, we had to compromise.”

Oh, great. Inuyasha snorts, finding this quite funny. What an incredible idea that was. Could they not treat him more like the captured dog that he was and put him somewhere else? Somewhere shit worthy, even, considering it wasn’t a secret just what the Band of Seven thought of him? Inuyasha found it hilarious that they’d even put him in the company of something so luxurious. Did they plan to keep him here and feed him grapes until he got fat? The thought made him laugh out loud.

“Naraku may be a slimy bastard, but at least he knows where respect is due,” Renkotsu finishes. “Our reputation didn’t go unseen in the past.”

“Nice,” he retorts, scoffing. “I don’t really give a shit about your little sob story, but good job throwing me in the hands of the man I want to see on a silver platter. Did you not have any better ideas? ‘Cause I’d like to hear ‘em.” 

“We didn’t,” Renkotsu says stiffly. “This wasn’t _our_ idea.”

“Mm, but it’s a better idea than most...” Jakotsu is more forgiving, pushing the tip of his sword against Inuyasha’s neck again, but not hard enough to break the skin. “We could hardly treat you badly, you know. Bankotsu had a fit after going through so much effort to get you here... your hard head even dented poor Banryu!”

“Oh, did I?” Inuyasha pulls his head forward. “Sorry! I didn’t realize. I completely forgot that we weren’t trying to kill each other before Bankotsu hit me over the head with his precious sword. Woe is me!”

The snarky comment isn’t outlived. The decision to try and avoid Jakotsu’s blade has the heel of Renkotsu’s foot against his head in seconds. Bent to the floor, Inuyasha groans impatiently, obviously upset. What, he couldn’t be sarcastic? 

“Fuck you,” he spits, angry. “What’s funny to me is how convinced you are that I can’t break out of this and kill you both right now. As for Naraku? You ought to say goodbye to your precious family once I get my hands on him.”

The idea of Naraku putting so much effort into entertaining a band of mercenaries has Inuyasha metaphorically rolling. So what, the guy could avoid every encounter between them, but enjoy figuring out what curtains to put up in stupid little shrines? The thought entertains him, at least for a little bit. Maybe, next time, he’d ask Naraku to sit down with him for tea! What a fucking joke.

“You think you can really kill us both, Inuyasha?” Renkotsu’s voice is cold, and he firmly presses Inuyasha harder into the floor. “You’re awfully smug for someone with a death wish. You may be strong, but you’re not immune to everything. No wonder your own brother hates you. How could anyone endure being in the precense of someone who cannot value his own life?” 

“My life doesn’t need to have value,” Inuyasha snarls, trying to jerk away. The darkness around his eyes is a persistant irritation, and it doesn’t help much as he tries to get away. “You speak of a death wish, but you sealed your own fate when _you_ brought me here.”

Renkotsu groans. Surprisingly, he removes his foot, letting up the pressure against the back of Inuyasha’s neck— but his freedom certainly doesn’t last. For about half a second, Inuyasha _thinks_ about lifting his head, but falls short as he hears the man speak again. “Jakotsu. We’ll come back when Bankotsu returns. Shut him up for now, please?”

“Wait—” He can’t finish. The blunt edge of something hard and heavy collides with the side of Inuyasha’s head, and his vision wanes; the interaction with such an object doesn’t render him useless right away, but he falls forward weightlessly.

Through his blindness, the last thing he hears is the mention of Bankotsu’s name once again. “Wait...” He manages the word again, only weaker this time, but when the world finally stops spinning and halts to a stop, he’s already slipping deep into unconsciousness.

——

Again, Inuyasha wakes up in another room. Unsurprisingly, his head is pounding— and he winces as he goes to move it, unharmoniously irked by his inability to soothe the pain. Of course he’d been knocked out! For Renkotsu, who seemed to have an even bigger ego than he did, it was comical that he’d get sick of Inuyasha so quickly. Actually, the fact of that didn’t really shock him; Inuyasha knew he was kind of annoying, but really?

This time, things are different though. What’s underneath him is soft, and he’s alone. Slowly regaining feeling in his limbs, Inuyasha— annoyed— finds he can’t really move. Damn. So now not only is he bound, but restrained? _What the fuck?_

Without being able to see, he can figure out two things: one being that he can’t use his arms, let alone his hands, and two being that he _can_ move his legs. Using that knowledge to his advantage, Inuyasha stretches his legs forward to try and feel his surroundings a bit more; whatever he’s lying on is huge, it seems. His foot doesn’t even reach the edge, if there is one anyway.

The second realization— the one about his arms— dawns on him a little later. With a little moving around, Inuyasha discovers that his arms are actually tied above his head. His restraints are connected to something solid, and no matter how hard he tries to pull, he can’t seem to break free. Did he mention that he was also super fucking disoriented? Great! 

Not only that, but what asshole _trimmed_ his fingernails? It wasn’t a concern; they _would_ grow back. But not for another day, at least!

It makes sense, though. Inuyasha could easily break out of these restraints if he tried. Sure, whatever they used was pretty heavy stuff. But with a little struggling, anything was possible; the optimism makes him feel a little better, but not for long.

The reason why is simple. The sound of a door sliding open snaps him out of his current trance, and he pulls his legs back up defensively. He couldn’t tell anyone in this goddamn group apart. They all smelled the same to him, and his dizziness wasn’t making it any better.

“Someone better start doing some fuckin’ explaining,” Inuyasha says immediately. “Or else—”

“No explaining needed,” a voice says.

Inuyasha turns his head in the direction of whoever his speaking and squints behind the blindfold, very clearly dazed and disconcerted. His ears twitch towards the source of the noise, confusing him. But he knows that voice. He knows it well and he barks out a laugh before he can stop himself.

“ _Bankotsu?_ ” He snorts. “Finally. I was getting impatient waiting for you to show up. No one likes when their _date_ doesn’t show up to the party.”

“Someone wasn’t waking up,” Bankotsu says, firing right back at him. 

He sounds calm, which confuses Inuyasha a little, but he’s not complaining— for now. Anything is better than having two swords jabbing into his neck, at this point. At least between him and Bankotsu, unadultered comments can go flying between the two of them without interruption. Inuyasha would rather die than be anywhere near the guy, but he’s not in any position to start putting anyone in their place. 

“Already getting snippy with me, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Bastard,” Inuyasha snaps, angrily. “Is this your idea of a joke? Because I’m not laughing. Are you really that much of a coward that you can’t face me like a man? You have to tie me up, humiliate me, and act like I’m just gonna take it? If anything, this doesn’t subdue me at all!”

He hears Bankotsu sigh. “Do you really think this is a joke?”

“Yes!” Inuyasha cries, fed up. He kicks his leg forward and jerks his arms against the restraints. “Not even Naraku would stoop this low. I knew you all were assholes, but this is honestly your idea of dealing with me? This has got to be some cheap trick!”

It isn’t, in fact, a trick at all. Nor is it a joke. Inuyasha’s flat rage makes him blind to this, but really, Bankotsu— _and_ the others, really aren’t fucking with him. This becomes apparent in Bankotsu’s silence, which startles Inuyasha into temporarily shutting the fuck up; he’s confused by the lack of comebacks, and it’s upsetting him.

“If I wanted you dead,” Bankotsu says, slowly, taking advantage of Inuyasha’s inability to speak, “You’d be dead already. You wouldn’t be on my bed, nor would you be in my presence. If I were you, I’d be smart about the things you say. Surely, by now you’ve realized that you aren’t authorized to try and snark your way out of this.”

Inuyasha laughs. “I’m authorized to say what’s on my mind,” he says. “Should’ve thought about gagging me, then, huh?” 

“Having you bound is enough,” Bankotsu says. But then his voice wavers and disappears. Not completely, but it moves, and then Inuyasha feels Bankotsu enter is space and he seizes up. Nothing is happening! So why is he being so defensive? He hasn’t even been touched by anyone other than Renkotsu and Jakotsu; he chalks this up to the fact that he’s simply been robbed of his primal sense, and that’s it. “I’m not fighting you, Inuyasha.”

“I _want_ you to!” Inuyasha snaps.

Suddenly, Inuyasha feels Bankotsu touch his face. Not cradle it, but his fingers brush against his cheek, and Inuyasha jumps and jerks away. However— now, he can see! The room he’s in isn’t particularly bright in anyway, but the ability to see again makes Inuyasha squint as he blinks rapidly. His eyes are a little sore, but he looks right in Bankotsu’s direction and stares at him angrily.

“Fuck you,” Inuyasha declares with pride. “Don’t touch me.”

Bankotsu looks disgusted with him and tosses the blindfold away, annoyed. “Stop whining,” he says, pulling away. “Would you rather stay blindfolded the entire night, or be able to at least see where you are and who you’re with?”

“I’d rather stay blindfolded my entire life than to look at you,” Inuyasha says coldly. 

“Well, too bad!” Finally, the irritable remarks return, and he gets a little bit more comfortable. But he can only see, and nothing more; he’s still bound, and he still can’t really use his arms. Regaining his sight _did_ help a little, but— 

“Unfortunately for you, you’re going to have to deal with me the entire night,” Bankotsu says. He’s still— despite a wavering attitude— being fairly calm right now, and Inuyasha’s eyes follow him as he crosses back in front of him. “I know you automatically want to fly off the handle when you’re not thinking about killing me, but death isn’t on the list for tonight. I have something far more enticing on the table to offer.”

Now that he understands where he is, Inuyasha dully notes that he is on a bed. He’s on a raised space near the back of the room, the area covered by a thick futon. It’s large, as he realized, and but it’s not as wide as he assumed, and above him is the wood-beam in which he’s been secured to with a rope. Their eyes meet, and Inuyasha retreats a little bit farther— or as far as he can, really.

“I hope it has nothing to do with you,” he responds coldly.

Bankotsu kisses his teeth and turns his head. “It has everything to do with me, you idiot,” he says. “Were you not listening to what I just said? Or are you deaf?”

“It’s safe to assume that I’m trying not to listen,” Inuyasha says. “Why does anything you say deserve my interest? The last thing I want to do is hear about your _plans._ What do I care?”

“You _should_ care,” Bankotsu snaps back. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

Inuyasha scoffs. What a fool! What kind of stupid question is that? He decides he wants to strangle the living hell out of Bankotsu at that very moment. “Are you as stupid as the rest?” He asks. “Is the concept of restraining me and _drugging_ me too insufficient of a fucking answer for you people?”

This bickering is getting them nowhere. But it’s obvious that Bankotsu realizes this fact before Inuyasha. Inuyasha’s sure the asshole wished he’d gagged him now; it’s evident in the way he can read the vexation on his face. 

“I wonder, Inuyasha,” Bankotsu says, turning his nose up. “Is your egotistical attitude as impressive as your bravery? Or are you too stubborn of a mutt to listen? I don’t have all day to argue with you. I came here to see if you were awake, and not a single argument was involved in the intentions I had for you.” 

“Well, I’m awake,” Inuyasha says, slumping back miserably. “I’m awake and pissed.”

“I’m aware,” Bankotsu says tersely.

The thing is— Inuyasha may pride himself a little in his power to read his enemies, but he has no idea what kind of stupid “intentions” Bankotsu has. Though he won’t admit it, the suspension is making him anxious. Slowly, his confidence in being able to break free is wearing off— and despite the fact that he’s no longer dizzy or disoriented, he still feels a bit helpless. Renkotsu was right. Strength never made him immune. Why did it take him so long to realize it?

But nothing about Bankotsu seems predatory. Hell, neither does he seem aggressive in any way. This startles Inuyasha, who half expects to be dead at any minute now. Bankotsu looks... handsome, and stupid, and well put together, and Inuyasha can’t stop staring at him. Half of him is angry, unbelievably so, and about to go absolutely bat-shit crazy— but the other half is interested in what he has to say. What’s gotten into him?

Inuyasha has to give him some respect. 

“My brothers told me I was crazy,” Bankotsu says. “It wasn’t their idea to bring you here, you know. My initial idea was to kill you and get on with it. I had you where I wanted you. I even knocked you out!” He sounds a little proud of himself, and Inuyasha rolls his eyes. “I think I’m stupid. They think I’m stupid. You, too, probably.”

“You can say that again,” Inuyasha says, interrupting him.

Bankotsu ignores him. “This wasn’t the best outcome for this that I could’ve possibly wanted,” he says. “This certainly isn’t me forgetting how much I hate your guts, either. But there’s only one person who can do this. So why not?”

Intrigued, Inuyasha wants to hear more. But annoyed, he doesn’t. He’s also really fucking mad, too, so there’s that. “Why? Why the fuck am I so special?”

Bankotsu looks away and considers this, for a moment. He inhales, slowly. “You might be insufferable,” he says, after a few seconds. “But I do like you. You’re a fun opponent. You pack a punch.”

“So? So fucking what?” Inuyasha presses forward again and yanks his hands forward. This is boring! When will Bankotsu spill his secret plans so that Inuyasha can lose his shit and be done with this stupid talk? “Do you think I care if you like me or not?”

“On some level, you must like me too,” Bankotsu replies. He bends forward, placing his hands on the bed, and leans toward Inuyasha carefully. “How couldn’t you? It’s obvious that fighting me gives you a rush. I can read you— you’re the type that finds it a thrill to fight enemies of equal strength, if not stronger than you.” 

“Get away from me,” Inuyasha scowls.

“No,” Bankotsu says immediately. “Answer my question, first.”

They stare at each other. Inuyasha squints at him, ignoring the ache beginning to flare in his arms. On some level... Bankotsu is right, and the fact of that makes him almost scared. It’s true. There is a certain gratification behind fighting Bankotsu that Inuyasha likes, but also hates. Weak opponents— the ones that pose no challenge— bore him. 

They’ve only fought a few times before this, but Inuyasha finds that fighting Bankotsu leaves him with an undeniable satisfaction. Whether or not this is to see him dead, he doesn’t know. But Bankotsu is right, and Inuyasha looks away, embarrassed. 

“What if you’re right, then?” He asks. “Are you going to mock me for it?”

Bankotsu smiles slowly. “Fighting me? Imagining me dead? It’s what you want, right? That’s what you crave? I can read it on your face! I can literally see it in your eyes, how badly you want to see me beat.” He folds his hands together, holding them tightly. “How badly? That’s what I want to know. I’m obsessed with it— how badly you want to see me suffer.”

Intimidated, Inuyasha struggles to answer. “Badly,” he says, seriously. “Is that the answer that you want? That I want to see you submit to me?”

An odd silence falls over them. Finally, the atmosphere is as tense as Inuyasha anticipated all this time; Bankotsu’s face falls, his smile slowly disappearing, and his hands uncurl. He straightens, standing up with full posture, and touches his chest idly. What was he thinking about? Inuyasha itches to know. He’s stuck, on this futon, without any answers— and he’s angry! He’s angry, and Bankotsu is being a dodgy little fuck and not giving him what he _wants!_

“Spit it out,” Inuyasha starts. “Don’t be a coward and—”

“If I asked you to fuck me right now,” Bankotsu says, and he’s being completely serious— as serious as anyone as he speaks. Inuyasha stops talking almost immediately and goes silent. “If I asked you to do that, would you?”

He stares at him as if he’s crazy.

“Would I _what?_ ” Inuyasha asks, shocked.

“I don’t need to repeat myself,” Bankotsu says. “I’m asking you a serious question!” 

This has got to be a joke. It’s got to be. But somehow, Bankotsu’s face isn’t lying to him, and Inuyasha— he’s— he’s speechless. His heart is suddenly beating very hard. There’s no evidence of a mistake in the sincerity of his voice, and it renders Inuyasha temporarily helpless. This was the last thing he expected— to be captured, bound, and asked to participate in such a sinful act. To Inuyasha, doing it isn’t, but with Bankotsu— it’s unspeakable.

Great. What a goddamn proposal.

“Are you fucking crazy?” 

“Fuck off,” Bankotsu snaps. “I’m not crazy!”

Yet, Inuyasha considers it. It’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard, and he’s angry— but he does consider it. Which is absolutely outrageous, on his part. Without concern for Naraku, the Band of Seven is Inuyasha’s top threat; they were nearly responsible for Kagome’s death, as well as Sango’s and Miroku’s. It wasn’t inherently Bankotsu’s fault, but he played into the possibility of it; why, in God’s fucking name, is Inuyasha even thinking about what he just asked when he knows this?

But he is. There’s no answer for why. Maybe he’s finally going insane— maybe he was hit too hard on the head. He glares at Bankotsu almost insufferably, like a child.

“Start talkin’,” Inuyasha says, leaning back into the bed. “Explain yourself. Now.”

"What is there to explain?” Bankotsu pauses. “What else is for me to say? What, do you want me to sit here and write you an essay on why I want you to fuck me?”

Inuyasha squints at him.

Bankotsu scoffs. “Even Jakotsu sees it in you,” he says. “I died a long time ago. To you, it might not have been long. But before I died, I hadn’t experienced anything exciting in my entire life. I killed for sport. I’ve kept track of the hundreds I’ve slaughtered, but not a single one of those moments ever satisfied me. But you’re the first opponent I’ve ever had that understands true hatred. You _hate_ me! The feeling is mutual. But it’s also, in a strange twist, invigorating to have an enemy that’s as equally passive about his hatred.”

Inuyasha listens to him warily. After waiting for the remark that never comes, Bankotsu continues, carefully. But he’s studied as he gets on the bed. On his knees, he leans forward towards Inuyasha, almost cautiously— as if he expects Inuyasha to swipe at him at any second. 

“It got me thinking,” he says. “It got me thinking a lot.”

“About me,” Inuyasha says, finishing the thought.

“Yeah, about you.” Bankotsu eyes lower dangerously. “About the possibilities of your strength, mostly. About how capable you are of a lot of things. You’re the perfect opponent. Born handsome— trained strong. I’m selfish. Even you know that, don’t you? I won’t stop until I get what I want. This time, it’s not a frivolous material possession. Hell, it’s not even to possess you. Who gives a fuck if you can kill me? Who honestly cares what becomes of me after I’m dead?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Inuyasha asks, pulling at the restraints again; fuck, his shoulders are really starting to hurt, and he can already feel himself starting to strain against the uncomfortable bonds. “I care, you idiot! Not about you, but—”

“Then do you not care about besting me?” Bankotsu sneers at him. “This is literally the only chance I’m giving you to feed into selfish desires! Don’t you get it? How often is an enemy of yours going to offer his in-vulnerabilities to you right in front of your face?” He sits up, slowly— raising onto his knees now. Inuyasha has no choice but to let his eyes do the following, his throat suddenly all too dry to speak. “Answer me!”

“Who in their right mind would compromise their body just to grant their opponent temporary satisfaction?” Inuyasha’s voice is breathy and hoarse now, his shoulders stiff. “You? Are you that insane that you’d go to this length just to please me before I kill you?”

Not too long ago— Inuyasha could have sworn that Bankotsu was doing all that he could to reject death; their brawls were elusive and unsuccessful, the will to live too strong. Now the guy was trying to convince him that he was _ready_ — no, prepared to die by his hands? He wondered why exactly Bankotsu was doing this— he wondered if this was just some elaborate set up to mock and belittle him. He was skeptical, and with reason. But Bankotsu didn’t seem at all like he was joking around, and it confused him greatly.

“If anyone is going to kill me,” Bankotsu says, his hands slowly creeping up the length of his leg, “It’s going to be the one who despises me the most. Not even those who I wronged all those years ago hate me quite as much as you do, Inuyasha. It’s a blind hatred. Because you seem to hold the weight of my crimes over your head, despite never meeting me. Maybe I _am_ crazy, huh? But who cares if I am? Who even cares about my reasoning for all this?”

“I—” Inuyasha swears mentally, unable to tear his eyes away. He can’t stop looking at Bankotsu’s hand— at the way his fingers weave up against his thigh towards his lower stomach. “You _are_ fuckin’ crazy,” he finishes, swallowing heavily. “Did being dead for so long really make you lose it this badly?” 

“Give me an answer.” Now he’s _really_ not fucking around. “I’m not so insane that I’d force you into it, but let’s not make this awkward and get right to—”

“Untie me, then.” 

“Huh?” Suddenly, Bankotsu stops, and his hand halts in place. “Untie you?”

Inuyasha curtly jerks his head in the direction of his bound arms. “Is it expected of me that I do this without the use of my hands, or what?”

The message is received. Bankotsu immediately understands (for fucking once) and smirks at him, letting his position up. They’re both lucky that neither of them are ones to speak; Inuyasha usually can’t shut up, but words aren’t necessary right now. All he can do, really, is watch as Bankotsu obeys him, shifting towards his open legs. Despite not wearing any of his protective armor and only his hakama, he cleverly has a dagger hidden away within the slit of his shoes (perhaps he would have used it in the event of an emergency). He uses it as he leans up against him, pulling it hard through the rope.

His shoulders rejoice! Blood flows back into his upper body, and Inuyasha’s arms fall as the rope braiding snaps apart above him. Bankotsu lowers the dagger and brings it back between his wrists now, making do with the rest that bind his hands together.

However, he isn’t quick to rest, pulling his legs together as he forcibly reaches forward to grab Bankotsu’s arms and flip them over. Obviously, Bankotsu expects it— that asshole— but Inuyasha is hardly concerned as he uses both his hands to pin him to the bed. The dagger goes flying off the futon, hitting the floor beneath them with a thud; unless the guy has another trick up his sleeve, they’re both weaponless, making them at complete mercy of each other (though he _kind_ of has the upper hand). 

“Try anything funny, and your head is mine,” Inuyasha snarls, breathing heavily. His hair curtains them in a blanket of white and silver, and his ears bend flat against the front of his head in annoyance. “There’s nothing I hate more than a liar.”

However, Bankotsu is unable to hold back the shudder that passes through him, and he smiles lazily. His arms stiffen in Inuyasha’s hands. “I’m a pathological, compulsive liar,” he admits slowly. “But lying about this? Not a chance.”

If this had been anyone else, Inuyasha _would_ have completely tossed away his shitty attitude to act like this meant something to him. These were intimate affairs, after all; he could play the part, if prompted. But this is hardly intimate, to him— to either of them. He doesn’t try be romantic or to act like he gives the slightest shit about Bankotsu or what he’s about to do. For all intents and purposes, he wants this over as quickly as possible; then again, though... where was the fun in trying to end this quickly?

Letting go of Bankotsu’s wrist, Inuyasha’s first line of action is to reach for the fold of his clothing and pull it apart. The dark, lean curves of Bankotsu’s shoulders become accessible to him as he yanks it down, and he splits the fabric further down the middle to reveal his chest. He notices the scar, first— the place in which he’d been executed only just a decade ago. He stares at for a very long time. Reaches back up to wrap his hand around it, the other moving back to untie the knot holding his hakama together. Bankotsu doesn’t move and is definitely very quiet— straining only just a bit against Inuyasha’s hand as it tightens around his neck (the shards are there, after all). He only shows subtle movement once Inuyasha’s fingers run over his chest and down his stomach, his legs separating to allow the bigger body between them.

For how small and insufferable he is, Bankotsu is pretty attractive. Inuyasha isn’t one to deny if his enemies are or not, which is nice— but at least nothing about him is ugly or undesirable. This makes things easier, obviously; he could hardly imagine the outcome of this situation had he been requested to go after another member in the Band of Seven instead. 

He definitely tries not to focus on it. At that point, he was already on pretty thin ice, so why make it worse?

Bankotsu sweeps through the curtain of hair to grab onto Inuyasha’s sleeve, pulling it equally as hard as he did it to him. The fold across his chest pulls with it, and Inuyasha shrugs it back in order for it to easily slip off of him; with it goes his white robe, which falls apart with the rest of his hakama, and he tries not to look at the younger man with disdain at the fact that they’re undressing. Undressing _together_ , to be more specific, though it’s not to be more intimate; Inuyasha almost decides that “saying” fuck it to the entire situation would be much better than acknowledging for what it is.

Which, he does. He doesn’t care about fully undressing Bankotsu at all, really. Instead, he cages his head in with his arm and leans down, his hand just barely finding the length of Bankotsu’s braid to wrap it around his fist and pull. Refusing to fight the aggressive ministrations, Bankotsu’s breath catches noticeably and Inuyasha _definitely_ sees his failure to avoid a smile once he leans down to attack his neck. He growls, dragging his mouth down over Bankotsu’s neck, inhaling his scent— his head dizzy, body stirring with the first signs of arousal.

“Come _on_ ,” Bankotsu says, just a little breathily— his hands pulling the rest of Inuyasha’s hakama off, leaving his upper body bare. They explore his upper back, pulling him closer and pushing him away, his fingers slightly digging into the muscle of his shoulder blades. “You’re such a dirty liar! You can’t tell me you didn’t want this!”

“Shut up,” Inuyasha groans, ignoring him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries not to focus on the fact that Bankotsu doesn’t really _smell_ like anything besides the obvious— but it’s still evident, despite that; he gives an impatient yank on the hair in his hand and sighs deeply, hardly resisting the urge to nip and bite at the skin of his throat. “Do we have to make rules?”

It is rhetorical. No answer is needed. 

But he does fuss a little when he feels Bankotsu press against him; the sudden lack of clothing leaves no boundaries between them, making it more than easy for him to feel the other body against his own. “Already?” Inuyasha asks, haughty against his neck. “What the fuck, _you’re_ one to talk.”

“Would you rather me be opposed?”

“No,” he says, correcting himself. “But the fact that you’re enjoying this is—”

Bankotsu shuts him up by wrapping his legs around his waist, pulling him down forcefully. The strength in his legs is incredible, Inuyasha dully notes, freeing his hands to reach down and grab onto his thigh for stability. Dragging the younger man down against him, he gasps into Bankotsu’s neck as he momentarily lends himself to grind down against his hip, and his head falls forward slowly to allow his nose to brush against his collar bone.

“Fuck,” he swears, his handle on Bankotsu hard and merciless.

“Any— any complaints?” Bankotsu gasps above him, the smirk nearly evident in the tone of his voice. “Or am I going to need to keep interrupting you?”

“Shut up,” Inuyasha repeats, clearly quite unable to give a shit.

The point is, Inuyasha is trying to get Bankotsu to the point where he will _stop_ talking. Right now, the last thing he needs is to have the guy shoot his mouth off, and that seems to be exactly what he’s doing. It’s pretty annoying. In fact, not only is it annoying, but distracting!— and not even completely giving in can do a single thing to shut him up. He kind of takes it back, the thing he said about enjoying it— this _does_ feel good, and Bankotsu doesn’t seem to really care that Inuyasha is all but nearly about to rip into his thigh with his nails. But—

Then, Inuyasha gets an idea.

A miraculously _horrible_ idea.

Arousal is already beginning to cloud Inuyasha’s judgment, which is bad, but _good_ because it means he can’t make rational decisions. By rational decisions, this can mean anything— from deciding that one thing may be too much, to deciding that he shouldn’t really care at all about what he’s doing. For this particular idea, he can’t even think straight enough to completely revolt the idea, and there’s two reasons for this— first, because Inuyasha is horny, and second, because it’s the only way he knows to keep Bankotsu quiet.

Hopefully. At least. (Mostly, he’s doing it because he’s turned on.)

Unceremoniously, Inuyasha readjusts and pushes Bankotus’s legs back to separate them, his hands dragging up towards his hips to hoist him upwards. Bankotsu makes a surprised little noise and pulls his arms back, intrigued by what Inuyasha is doing, his chest a little flushed but not much else. He can’t see Bankotsu’s face, considering the way he leans his head against his front, but he doesn’t even need to look to tell that he’s probably sporting a shitfaced grin. He’d wipe it off, if he could. Which, promptly, he does.

Bankotsu doesn’t immediately reject the idea of them kissing. Inuyasha thought that, initially, at first, he would completely hate it— but he doesn’t. Aggressively, he nips all the way up his neck to find his mouth, unharmoniously (and easily) pressing their lips together, but they probably only kiss for about five seconds or less; no sooner does Bankotsu reach up to hold his face in both hands and promptly bite him.

That bastard! Inuyasha pulls back, bewildered, but doesn’t say anything. He licks his bottom lip, realizing that Bankotsu has drawn blood.

In return, Bankotsu copies the action, his eyes lowered dangerously. In that moment, Inuyasha decides that he _really_ doesn’t give a shit what he’s about to do; all he cares about is _doing_ it. 

Trying to keep his hands as far away from his body as he can, Inuyasha carefully follows through with his decision. He holds Bankotsu’s hip, straying only slightly to spread his fingers over his stomach, his mouth nipping and biting down his neck and chest. Nothing happens, at first. He slowly makes his way down Bankotsu’s body, which is fine. But it’s only when he reaches Bankotsu’s stomach, his teeth lightly grazing over his belly button, that the younger man gives him any reaction.

He writhes in anticipation. Inuyasha casts a glance up at him, reaching with his free hand to undo Bankotsu’s fundoshi cautiously. He blinks, momentarily.

“What?” he asks. Bankotsu’s face is now flushed, his mouth parted a little.

“Are you—” He swallows and manages a smile. “Man, I never took you for a _slut_ , Inuyasha. To think that just moments ago, you were completely opposed to the idea of doing this to me—”

Inuyasha casts away the final remnants of fabric stopping him from reaching his objective. His eyes stray, unable to look at his hands. “I told you to shut up,” he says, the name doing wicked things on its own to him. He shudders and leans his head against the inside of Bankotsu’s thigh, breathing deeply. With the fundoshi removed, it’s suddenly no secret to Inuyasha how aroused he is; he tries not to find himself unbearably attracted to the sight of Bankotsu’s cock flat against his stomach, but fails.

“Go ahead,” Bankotsu breathes, getting comfortable. “You wanna say somethin’, don’t you? Did getting called a slut turn you on?” 

It did! Which was the worst! Raising his head, Inuyasha tries to force the thought out of his mind as he leans forward, tentatively running a stripe with his tongue along the underside of Bankotsu’s cock. He makes a face, considering the taste, before trying again.

Meanwhile, Bankotsu’s smile slowly melts off his face, his mouth falling open as he lets out a soft moan. “That’s it,” he says, quietly, and Inuyasha swells with momentary pride.

In fact, the pride makes him rise onto his elbows, his hand dragging down to slowly wrap around his shaft. It’s hot and heavy in his grip, and Inuyasha stares at for a moment, contemplating. This is— it never really occured to him now that he actually went through with doing this; he’s shocked— shocked and a little ashamed, but it does nothing to hinder him. Lowering his head, he experimentally nips and licks fleetingly at the heavy weight in his hand before taking him into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he hears, and he feels Bankotsu thread a hand through his hair and pull. He tries not to gag as he goes a little lower, pausing if only to bob his head slowly.

Ignoring how good this makes him feel is pointless. On some level, Bankotsu is right— mere minutes ago Inuyasha had been furiously protesting, but now he was doing this. Not only that, but he was enjoying it no less, no matter how big Bankotsu felt in his mouth or how bitter the taste was. The way he was reacting to it was impossible to hide, too; surely, Bankotsu doesn’t have to see to know, which was most likely very true.

But for now, Inuyasha isn’t concerned with himself. For the first time in forever, he can hardly give a fuck about his own issues. Drunk off temporary lust and sensitive to the effect sex has on him, he can do nothing but completely give in. He does it effortlessly.

He discovers he can’t go too low or he chokes. Every time he does, too, Bankotsu pulls a little more insistently (whether because he likes it or not). He can use his hand to work at what he can’t reach, stay in his comfort level, or migrate to another angle— which he finds works just fine. At some point, he pulls off to tilt his head and lick slowly at the side of his cock, and Bankotsu appreciates that a lot. He grinds forward against Inuyasha’s face and gasps, his hips canting forward at the sensation.

“Yeah, you little _minx_ ,” he groans, and Inuyasha makes a breathy little noise at the mention of such a nickname again. “You look so good like that...”

 _So much is obvious_ , Inuyasha thinks irritably.

However, this is the first time he’s ever been referred to as such, and despite not being sexually promiscuous at all... how can he stay mad?

He doesn’t, that’s what. Instead, a low rumble rolls through Inuyasha’s chest as he voluntarily gives in, his shoulders haunching forward to allow him the leisure of taking Bankotsu into his mouth again. Above him, Bankotsu hisses in momentary pleasure, his hand uncurling from the unruly tuft of hair at the top of Inuyasha’s head— and he drags his fingers down to thread his silver bangs through them. It is entirely too erotic. But does he care? Not at all— instead, Inuyasha thrives off it, evident in the way he can hardly resist the urge to rut against the futon.

God— what is wrong with him? Is Bankotsu not a sworn enemy?

He is, yet— not right now, he isn’t. The way Bankotsu holds his hair back, eyes lidded and mouth parted, is nowhere near aggressive. The way he watches him slowly, carefully— his hips rolling forward at the sensation of Inuyasha’s mouth hot around his cock— is entirely nonthreatening. He’s as vulnerable as ever in this position, really... yet he’s not scared. He hardly _fears_ Inuyasha now, despite knowing that any moment, he could be walking the path of death.

So... why? What makes him so... desirable?

The sensation of something being pushed into his hand catches him off guard. Inuyasha pulls off, intrigued, to look at what’s being handed to him; it’s a small, pocket-sized bottle of salve, and he looks at Bankotsu in fascination at the implications. 

“Someone came prepared,” he pants, licking his swollen lips. But Bankotsu merely leans back, unable to respond, the rise and fall of his chest an even indicator of his breathlessness.

“I almost forgot to,” he finally manages. “But you’re not going to keep me waiting, are you?”

No, he _definitely_ fucking is not. Inuyasha nearly drops the tiny bottle trying to open it, already spilling far too much onto his fingers. “ _Fuck_ ,” he curses, dropping it back onto the futon once he’s done with it. “No.” With his fingernails already trimmed (which turned out to be a good thing), at least he doesn’t have to worry about hurting Bankotsu. Which is another thing. Why would he care?

He admits, he is a little rough— but neither of them are trying to be gentle. He abandons his previous job, instead pushing up using his feet to rest on top of Bankotsu again. His hand practically dripping with salve, Inuyasha teases him with his middle finger by rubbing it curtly against his entrance, his body leaning forward as he feels the younger man’s arm hook around the back of his neck. 

Bankotsu is tense, obviously— and Inuyasha doesn’t blame him. But eventually, the resistance in his body gives way as he slowly eases the finger inside, and Bankotsu’s head falls back as he gasps without breath to spare.

He tests the waters— pushing right up to the knuckle. Bankotsu doesn’t even need to speak in order to let Inuyasha know that he likes that, so he wastes no time in adding a second; not enough time is lent to thoroughly preparing him, at this point, but Inuyasha isn’t here to make sure that Bankotsu can handle him. He ignores the grip he has on his shoulder despite the (shocking) ease in which he can start to move, and slowly begins to fuck him with his fingers.

“Fuck,” Bankotsu gasps, spreading his legs to wrap them around Inuyasha’s waist, his body stiff. “Gods, Inuyasha—”

“Spare the prayers,” Inuyasha snaps back, but can’t deny the pride he feels in hearing Bankotsu say his name like that; leaning down, he tucks his head into Bankotsu’s neck and steadily kisses along his jaw, his body practically dripping with abandoned desire. “I don’t need to hear them.”

But oh, he does. Steadily, he can feel Bankotsu’s body open up to him, submitting physically to the onslaught of his fingers. He’s rough, but pleased— raising his head to groan against his cheek when he feels Bankotsu cautiously start to rock his hips down and fuck himself on them. However, it feels good— _looks_ good, no doubt, but isn’t enough.

Inuyasha is impatient, being the only one that hasn’t lent himself the sensation of pleasure not one moment since starting. With his free hand, he quickly makes do with his remaining clothing (which had unsurprisingly become a nuisance) before finding the salve again; unable to look, all he can do is uncap the bottle with his thumb and pour it backwards with his hand, his fingers holding it by the end to let the solution ooze out. It coats his palm, and satisfied, Inuyasha drops it to reach down and wrap his hand around his own cock— slicking himself and moaning softly at the sensation. He does this for a few seconds, working himself up— enjoying the sounds and keens of Bankotsu beneath him within the throes of pleasure. But it doesn’t last long.

He spares a _moment_ to look at Bankotsu’s face, which is a bad idea. It’s understandably flushed and a little forlorn once Inuyasha finally pulls his fingers free, but there is something unmistakable about it. Inuyasha nearly chokes on his breath, his heart beating hard against the inside of his chest as he grabs Bankotsu’s hips and yanks him down, and he finds— painstakingly— that he’s unable to look away, even as he pulls back to lean a couple inches away from him and survey the sight below. 

Inuyasha... can appreciate it. He can appreciate it because he does hate Bankotsu, but— in this momentary vulnerability, Bankotsu is a _gorgeous_ human being and Inuyasha is— well, going to fuck this gorgeous man. Or he's about to.

He can appreciate the way Bankotsu reaches down to grab his thigh and pull him closer, his hakama spread out beneath him like a sheet, his hair a mess and clinging to his sweaty face. Inuyasha pauses to briefly preserve this image of Bankotsu in his mind: his eyes, staring into him— his chest, heaving with every breath. His body bent to his will and his cock at full attention. 

“Fuck,” Inuyasha groans, wanting nothing more than to claim him, his mouth going dry. He decides that this _has_ to be the result of mere impulse— an animalistic tendency, if you will. The way his blood pumps, hard and heavy through his veins, is dire proof of that. “You’re lucky I considered the idea of wanting you so much.” He can hardly even manage that much.

“Then act on it,” Bankotsu dares him impatiently, but his voice says it all. “You speak of desire, but where is it?”

 _Right here_ , Inuyasha silently thinks, taking one last moment to appreciate as he lines himself and _finally_ enters, Bankotsu’s body arching up as a result. Immediately, he buckles forward and swears out loud— dropping his head towards Bankotsu’s face and snapping his hips forward. As his body goes completely tense while he squeezes the younger man’s hips and breathes heavily for a moment, Bankotsu, himself, has yet to hardly make a noise— but he keens, low in his throat, once Inuyasha carefully pulls out and thrusts back in again.

“You’re—” he struggles to find his voice. “You’re— _big_ ,” he finally manages. But the comment falls on deaf ears. Inuyasha is too far gone to understand a word of what Bankotsu is fucking saying, and instead, he focuses on trying to repress the fast approaching orgasm that creeps up on him already.

It takes him about fifteen or so seconds— give or take— to realize he won’t last long. Even with the impressive stamina of a half-demon, it seems that not even Inuyasha can resist his own sensitivity. 

But it doesn’t stop him, his arms hooking underneath Bankotsu’s knees to pull him upward, locking him hard against his body. He’s all the way in, now— so deep that Bankotsu is squirming and writhing and _whining_ at how much it is, already. He draws it out, breathing hard through the near unbearable pressure around his cock— fucking the younger man deep, his knees bumping together against his chest.

“Fuck!” Bankotsu yells, reaching up with both hands to drag his hands down his face and jerk away. “Fuck, stop— stop, it’s—” He yells out loud when Inuyasha gives a particularly deep thrust, leaning forward to bend him in two and snap his hips back forward. “ _Gods_ , Inuyasha—”

“Didn’t think I’d— I’d go this far, huh?” Inuyasha rasps, hips aching. “Huh?”

“No,” Bankotsu chokes, his mouth dropping open as he throws his head back, his eyes hidden behind the back of his hand. “You— you can’t, or else—”

Fuck, already? Inuyasha stirs, faltering at his brutal rhythm, his hips slowing to a nearly torturous pace. Listen— he doesn’t want Bankotsu to come _that_ fast. It’s looking like neither of them are going to last very long if he keeps up with this, and despite Bankotsu’s expression of contempt at his decision to stop, he’s sure the both of them understand why. Inuyasha takes a moment to catch his breath, his arms loosening around Bankotsu’s to let them slip out from between them— and he pauses, for but a second, before jerking his head sideways.

“Turn over,” he says, his voice husky and low with arousal. 

The futon is soft on Inuyasha’s skin, which means he can apply as much pressure as he desires without pain. He watches, silently, as Bankotsu struggles to recover, rolling over onto his stomach and pushing up onto his knees. But there isn’t much time to relax. Mere seconds after Bankotsu situates his position, Inuyasha pulls his hakama all into one hand and pushes it against his lower back, his body still well accommodated as he slowly eases back into him again. In this position— fuck, does Bankotsu feel good, and the sight of his cock slowly sinking into him is divine. This time, Inuyasha can’t help but moan out loud, a delightful buzz working it’s way upward into his stomach at the way Bankotsu tightens around him. 

“Ugh,” he groans, leaning his head between his arms. “You feel _worse_ like this!”

He’s sure he does. _That’s_ not a surprise. The futon creaks as he wastes no time, his hair spilling forward across Bankotsu’s back as he fucks him. It protests against the both of their weight, seemingly unable to hold them simultaneously— but Inuyasha is more interested in the broken cries and gasps that leave the mercenaries mouth, his entire body wracked with tremors of pleasure. 

If anyone can hear them, he wants them to. Even when he releases Bankotsu’s hakama to wrap his arm around his chest, pulling him back, he wants them to be heard. He wants someone, _anyone_ , to listen as he reduces Bankotsu to a broken mess— biting into the back of his shoulder as he holds his hip with one hand. 

Bankotsu’s own arm comes to wrap around the back of his neck, and he holds him tightly against him— fucking him hard, nipping all along his neck and throat as Bankotsu’s head falls back against his own. Not just the futon, but the wooden beam in front of them creaks as the younger man holds onto it for dear life, and _Christ_ , is it easy for Inuyasha to lose composure like this— losing himself in the sounds of their sex and the proof of Bankotsu’s submission to him.

“ _Ah_ , yes! _Yes_ — there, right there!” His noises are hoarse, seemingly trapped in the back of his throat as he buckles against Inuyasha’s body, his fingers threading back through his hair and into his palm. “ _Inuyasha_ —”

“That’s it,” Inuyasha groans, grazing Bankotsu’s skin with his teeth. Pounding into him from behind again and again, he holds his hips so hard they risk bruising, his orgasm fast approaching. “ _That’s_ it, fuck— just like that, Bankotsu—”

Miraculously, Bankotsu comes without being touched. It’s over in a moment, his body going very still as he breaks in Inuyasha’s arms, and the beam even splinters beneath his fingers as he keens against the side of Inuyasha’s face and let’s out a sob. The way he tightens around his cock makes Inuyasha hiss, a groan of guttural pleasure catching painfully in his throat— and he goes taut as all fuck when he does, eventually, finish inside him, his core completely shaken. 

He releases him. Bankotsu falls forward and catches the beam with his second hand, panting hard in order to catch his breath as he bows his head between his shoulders. Inuyasha can do nothing but stare at him, an equal mess himself— his chest burning with the lack of oxygen in his lungs, his body aching and sore.

He slips out of him slowly and places his hand on to Bankotsu’s sweaty back. “Remember this,” he says once he can catch his breath, “the next time you want to challenge my sustenance.”

“As if your strength on the battlefield can compare,” Bankotsu says bitterly. “As if... it could compare to _that._ "

“It can’t,” Inuyasha says. “But I could’ve done a lot worse.” 

The mark on the back of Bankotsu’s shoulder is oozing blood now, dripping down onto the futon. His hips and thighs are littered in marks and crescents from where Inuyasha dug into his skin with his nails. Inuyasha admires his job finely and leans back on his heels, still breathing heavily.

Bankotsu _does_ eventually turn over, and he leans his head against the back of the futon to stare at him. Fucked out and disheveled, Inuyasha remains quite able to observe the beauty in which he still possesses, even in this state. But his eyes don’t linger. He reaches behind him for his robe and hakama, sluggishly pulling it back on.

It was sad. He almost yearned to be touched, now, through his cooling orgasm. Inuyasha frowns, thinking about the outcome of this situation had it been anyone else— perhaps, it would be different... perhaps, in the aftermath of their intimacies, Inuyasha could even lie side by side his partner and bask in the divinity of the moment they’d just shared.

But no matter. Bankotsu is not his partner. Not ever will he understand what it’s like, nor ever get to say he experienced the feeling of being loved by Inuyasha. They were enemies, sworn from birth, it seemed— and besides. He had much better candidates in mind; no doubt was Bankotsu the same.

They redress, and Bankotsu silently re-braids his hair. Inuyasha bitterly accepts the return of his restraints when Bankotsu (slowly, mind you) fetches a fresh set, paying no mind to the splintered beam above him. He ties the ropes tightly, if only just a bit looser this time— tossing a few pillows into his general direction for comfort. He spares him a momentary look of interest, but can’t help the satisfied look of content on his face. He smiles at him, and the smile Inuyasha returns is all too devious.

“Have fun with that,” he says, and Bankotsu turns his back to him. “What, you going to leave me like some whore, now? Is that it?” He smiles. “How classy. Shouldn’t I be doing that to you?”

“Good night, Inuyasha,” Bankotsu says. “It’d be best if we didn’t hear another word from you tonight. Especially if it has something to do with me.”

The sliding door closes softly, leaving Inuyasha alone to himself again. Left in his own company, not much is on his mind— all except for the memories of what he’d just done. But in this moment, the memories aren’t bitter; Inuyasha doesn’t regret them. Instead, as he stares at the spot in which Bankotsu had just been standing, he pulls at his restraints with aching arms and can’t help but feel as if he’s the luckiest man to have ever lived.

After all, how often can a man say he bested his enemy on more than just the battlefield?

——

To absolutely no one’s surprise, when Bankotsu checks up on Inuyasha the next morning, the woodbeams are torn clean off the wall and the room is a mess. Instead of losing his shit over the entire situation and, quite frankly, going against the fact that he knew this would happen, he simply sits down on the floor and leans against the futon. The asshole is nowhere to be found, too. _Great._

“This is what you get,” Jakotsu chastises him, leaning against the sliding door with his arms crossed. “This is karma at it’s finest!”

“This was such a bad idea,” Bankotsu groans, leaning his head between his arms. “My ass hurts so bad. Everything hurts, Inuyasha is gone, and my bedroom has been destroyed.”

“Why didn’t you let me have him!” This is expected, too. Jakotsu drops down right next to him and leans against his shoulder, shaking him softly. “Baaankotsu, you know how badly I wanted to get my hands on that beautiful, gorgeous—”

He rolls his eyes. “It was because—”

“Such a wild child, that Inuyasha...”

Ugh. Bankotsu never wants to hear the phrase “wild child” ever again in his life. He sighs miserably. “Was it so much that I asked him? Did he have to completely destroy my room while he was at it? Listen, I know I’m an asshole and he hates my guts, but really? My room? Not that I give a shit, but still!” 

“Do you blame him? Let’s see...” It takes a moment for Jakotsu to count on his fingers, his eyes narrowed closely in concentration. “You knocked him out, kidnapped him, had him bound and blindfolded for hours, then moved him... and then, you—”

“I asked the guy to fuck me,” Bankotsu snaps, raising his head to look at Jakotsu deplorably. “I didn’t ask him to carve out his left lung for me!”

“You didn’t even share,” Jakotsu whines. “All of this could have been avoided had you simply not been selfish. I could’ve shouldered your burdens... I could have made sure that Inuyasha didn’t completely turn your room upside down,” he finishes.

“Well, then next time you can have him,” Bankotsu says, defeated. “When you’re done with him, it can be your room that ends up in a right off. For once, I don’t want in on any part of that.”

“Fine by me.” _Now_ he was happy. They sat there silently for a few seconds, staring out into the room beyond the sliding door, their arms resting over their knees. Bankotsu sighs deeply, if only to turn his head to Jakotsu for a moment, his expression completely void of energy or excitement. Jakotsu stares back and shrugs.

“Now what?” he asks. “We can’t just stay here all day. I mean, I’d be quite happy just to sit around talking about how lovely Inuyasha is, but like...” He refers to the... to the _thing_ behind them, seemingly looming over them as if it were their fate all this time. Or, more specifically, Bankotsu’s fate. “The room...”

“Well...

For the first time, Bankotsu _actually_ resents Naraku for even bringing him back to life in the first place. He can only imagine how that conversation’s going to go down when it happens. “It’s not going to clean itself.”


End file.
